


Keep the Crown

by safarialuna



Series: Pornalot 2017 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Bondage, Humor, M/M, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 22:12:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11860668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safarialuna/pseuds/safarialuna
Summary: Arthur plays the harp on the Round Table.Hilarity ensues.





	Keep the Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for Challenge Two: Tease

Arthur rests atop the Round Table, splayed out like the subject of a fine painting. Candles glow like stars and petals decorate the floor, flickering like fireflies. In his hands: his secret weapon.

He hears a knock on the door and bellows, “If you’re Merlin, you can enter. If not, go away.”

His faithful servant pops his head in, and after a healthy dose of finger-coaxing by Arthur, he settles down in a chair, twiddling his thumbs like he doesn’t know if he should be scared or amused. 

Arthur thinks he should be _aroused_.

“Is that a harp?” 

Arthur looks down to observe the instrument in his hands. He then plucks out a discordant smattering of notes and Merlin covers his ears, wincing.

“Why yes,” Arthur replies. “Yes it is.”

“I’ve never seen you with one of those before. Did you get that just to annoy me?”

“What ever” — _TWANG!_ — “gave you that idea?”

“I’ll come another time.” Merlin shoots up from his seat and heads for the door.

“Merlin!” Arthur calls.

“I must clean your chambers, Sire. They’re dirty. Goodbye,” Merlin says.

“You do that every day.”

“Yes. It’s what servants _do_.”

Arthur pauses meaningfully. “For shame, Merlin. You’ll have to miss the song I’ve been composing.” He’s kitted out in his full armour — crown, cape, and all. As sets aside the harp to get off the table, he starts to regret this choice.

Merlin’s hand hesitates over the door latch. “Is it any good?”

Arthur finally manages to roll off. He then walks over and grabs Merlin by the arm, dragging him back to the table. “It’s a masterpiece. Now sit.” 

Merlin tugs away from Arthur’s grip and folds his arms, standing defiantly.

Arthur climbs back on. Before he starts, he raises both eyebrows and says with the utmost seriousness, “Do not laugh. Merlin. I only want to see smiles of adoration and complete devotion towards my craft.”

Merlin sits down.

Strumming a basic pattern of notes, he sings, “Merlin is the worst servant in the land, / He could n’er find a better man…than Arthur. / Who wouldn’t want a king whose handsome looks are by far the best? / Merlin swoons like a little girl, clutching a hand to his chest.”

“Now you’re just serenading yourself,” Merlin mutters.

“Good thing the King of Camelot’s here to protect him / From bears and bandits, goblins and griffins. / Merlin’s wizardry is great and his cheekbones heavenly; / He’s a clumsy head louse and I love him most ardently.”

After a long silence, his horrible manservant bursts into a fit of laughter.

“That was _terrible_! No rhyme or reason whatsoever!” Merlin crows.

“Merlin!” Arthur cries. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh.” He scoots towards Merlin and cups Merlin’s face in his hands, his legs dangling. “Idiot.”

“It was cute. Though I’m usually the one doing the saving.” Merlin looks up through his eyelashes as he rubs circles on Arthur’s inner thighs with the tips of his fingers, which Arthur finds maddeningly distracting from his entirely justified indignation. 

“I was trying to woo you.”

“If you wanted to take me to bed, you could’ve just said so,” Merlin says.

“Ever the romantic. And here I gave composing a try just for you.” In the future, he’ll never admit he pouted just then. Kings do not pout. 

Merlin shakes his head and gives a snort of laughter. “You absolute turnip.”

In a tumble of elbows and legs and furious kisses — Arthur suspects magic may have been involved — both of them are severely lacking in clothing and on the middle of the table. Merlin sits on Arthur’s lap, the crown on his head, beaming down at him. 

Arthur lays on his back, feeling the air ghost along his bare skin. He studies Merlin’s face, illuminated in the glow of candlelight — and falls a little bit more in love. 

“This is treason, Merlin. I’m the king,” Arthur sighs. 

“Not right now, you’re not,” Merlin says, tapping the solid gold. “I’ve got the crown.”

“Then I suggest,” Arthur says as he grabs Merlin’s waist, “you start decreeing your hips to _move_.”

“Impatient, are we?”

“Yes,” Arthur grits out. His cock’s throbbing.

Merlin grins. “Do you want to do this slowly?” He stands on his knees, stroking his own length over Arthur’s chest.

“I think, Merlin, I should just fuck you on this table right now.”

Merlin bites his lip. “Can I try something?”

Typically, Merlin’s “ideas” involve magic. Arthur has a particularly soft spot for it. And by soft spot, he means he gets exceptionally hard.

“Fine,” Arthur says. 

“Excellent,” Merlin says. His eyes flash gold and suddenly Arthur feels invisibles cords tighten at his arms and legs, snapping his limbs to the rough wood. Arthur struggles against the binds, feeling the delicious bite of it against his skin.

Eyes flaring gold again, Merlin slowly slides a finger into himself, then two, wetness already pooling down his wrist and onto Arthur’s stomach as he coaxes himself open.

Arthur’s pulse thrums and his breath leaves in shudders, transfixed by Merlin’s movements. “Merlin, _please_.”

Merlin pulls out of himself and runs a slick fingertip up Arthur’s cock before grasping the shaft. Arthur whimpers in relief as Merlin finally sinks down, their bodies connecting. 

Arthur moves his hips under the restraint, pleasure shivering along his spine and down to his toes. He feels Merlin tight and hot around him, matching his rhythm in breathy gasps. It isn’t long before Arthur’s moaning, releasing inside him.

The magic breaks and Arthur intertwines his fingers with Merlin’s, his knuckles being pressed hard against the wood as Merlin rides out his own climax. 

*

“Arthur,” Merlin says later in Arthur’s arms, both of them moments away from drifting off to sleep in their bed, “why have we never tried the Round Table before?”

Arthur looks down to the man still wearing his crown that will no doubt poke him countless times in the night and says, “Absolutely no idea.”


End file.
